


Aziraphale and the Department of Souls

by Aenlu



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Discorporation (Good Omens), Gen, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenlu/pseuds/Aenlu
Summary: An account of the Principality Aziraphale's various discorporations and his unfortunately growing acquaintanceship with the harried head of the Department of Souls.





	Aziraphale and the Department of Souls

**The First Discorporation **

The first time Aziraphale discorporated was a surprise for everyone involved. 

The year was 3848 BC, and Aziraphale was roaming Mesopotamia. He was working on the concept of something that would later be called a ‘picnic’, and he thought it would be nice afternoon to give it another test run. On this particular day, he was on a bit of a jaunt up a hill outside the small community the humans had taken to calling Jericho. The heat of the sun beat down on his neck, but, as he wiped the sweat from his brow,[1] he was driven on by the tantalizing thought of catching a breeze in the shade of a rock, while he enjoyed the results of a recent human development called “agriculture”. 

Aziraphale’s fatal error occurred, as they often do, when he decided to venture off the beaten path. He had not made it very far off said path when he stepped on something squishy and suddenly felt a sharp pain in his right ankle. He let out a rather undignified shriek and shook his leg frantically, dislodging the black and red snake that had sunk its fangs into his leg. 

Upon seeing the serpent, Aziraphale became indignant. “Really, Crawly, that hardly seems like an appropriate reaction.”

“Appropriate reaction? You sssssstepped on me!” Crawly hissed, equally indignant. For his part, he had been enjoying a nap in the sun when he was disturbed in one of the rudest ways possible. 

Aziraphale looked down at his rapidly swelling ankle. “Oh, look what you’ve done, it’s getting all swo —“ 

Aziraphale dropped to the ground, dead. 

“Next time, maybe you’ll look where you’re sssstepping,” Crawly snarked at the empty corporation. The corporation did not react. Feeling a bit silly, and perhaps a tiny sliver of guilt, he slithered away. 

* * *

“— llen.” Aziraphale blinked. He was back in Heaven, standing before an angel who looked about as surprised as he felt.

Aziraphale took a moment to collect himself and looked around. He was in a small, bright white room, whose only distinguishable features were the other angel and the small wooden table at which they sat. “Hello,” Aziraphale said, “Do you happen to know why I am here?”

“Um,” the other angel began, “You were discorporated, I suppose?” They looked a little uncertain, but at Aziraphale’s blank expression, they tried again. “You were discorporated,” they said, a little more firmly.

“Dis… corporated?” 

“Yes.” There was a long pause as they stared at each other. The other angel began to look flustered. “Your corporation, back on Earth, was killed. Discorporated. You know?” 

“Oh!” Aziraphale said with sudden understanding. “I didn’t know it could do that.”

“You should have learned about it at Corporation Orientation,” the other angel said with a frown. “It’s a rather important feature to know about.” 

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I don’t believe I attended that. I haven’t been up here since Eden, you see, and after the other Guardians were recalled, I thought, well, I suppose we don’t need to be guarding it anymore, ‘it’ being Eden, of course, and I thought I might as well check up on the humans, see how they’re getting on, so I just walked out, and —“

Sensing that this ramble wasn’t going to end any time soon, the other angel cut him off. “You must be the Principality Aziraphale.”

That stopped Aziraphale in his tracks. “Pr—Principality?” 

The other angel looked down at a clay tablet that had appeared in their hands. It contained a list of angels with corporations.[2] “That’s what it says here.” 

Aziraphale was crestfallen, but he did his best to not let it show on his face. He was not entirely successful. “Ah — yes, that’s me. Principality Aziraphale.” 

Back in 4004 BC, Aziraphale had been surprised that both failing to guard the Tree of Knowledge and losing his celestial blade seemed to have no repercussions (to him, at least). Thus, news of his demotion was not exactly a surprise, but he would have liked to have been informed of it when it actually happened, and from a more official source. That’s just common courtesy, after all. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, a habit he picked up from the humans that supposedly cleared awkwardness from an interaction. It didn’t seem to work. “What — ah — what happens now?” 

The other angel looked embarrassed. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. You’re the first angel to be discorporated, and we don’t really have protocols in place, yet.”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to sigh. This situation was turning into quite the nuisance. “Well then…?”

“Eremiel,” the other angel supplied.

“Eremiel,” Aziraphale repeated, with as much warmth as he could muster, in an attempt to tamp down his growing annoyance at this situation. He felt it would be best to be on this angel’s ‘good side’, as it were. “Well, Eremiel, that means we can sort it out together.” 

“I suppose,” Eremiel said, feeling both doubtful and a little patronized. 

Aziraphale clapped his hands. “Right. To begin with, I haven’t been recalled, have I?” 

On reflex, Eremiel glanced down at the tablet in their hands, even though it contained no information that was useful in this context. “I don’t think so.”

“Which means…?” Aziraphale prompted, with an encouraging smile. Eremiel stared at him, and Aziraphale’s smile faltered as the silence stretched on. “Which means I should be assigned a new corporation. Or have the old one repaired — whatever it is you do. ” 

“That does make sense,” Eremiel agreed, and they seemed a bit relieved at being presented a way to proceed. They stood up abruptly. “I’ll go talk to Radueriel, see if they’ll build you a new one. Just, um, wait here.” They practically fled through a door that appeared on the back wall.

Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief, although he wasn’t sure if it was because that painfully awkward conversation was finally over, or because it seemed he would be allowed to go back to Earth.

As he waited, Aziraphale took the opportunity to look around the room again. It was just as white and plain as before. Dull, even. The thought perturbed him; this room looked much like the rest of Heaven, and he had never found Heaven _dull _before, but compared to the vibrancy of Earth, humming with colour and sound and smell and texture, well — it hardly compared. Aziraphale realised that these kinds of thoughts were approaching blasphemy, and decided he had better stop thinking them. Instead, he started thinking about his demotion, and winced. No, better not think about anything. 

And so he waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And wai —Eremiel opened the door. “Come in, then. It’s ready for you.” They led him into another room, which somehow managed to be even plainer than the previous one. Standing in the centre was a blank corporation. It was an unsettling looking thing, its surface bright white and entirely too smooth. It had all the necessary features, if two holes for the ears, two nostrils and a slight bump for the nose, and a thin gash for the mouth counted as features. The eyes, blessedly, were closed. Aziraphale stepped up to the corporation, so they were face to face. He glanced nervously at Eremiel, who looked like they were bracing for something, and then he steeled himself and stepped into the corporation. 

It felt wrong, at first, like he was squeezing into something that was cold, stiff, and far too small. This sensation was swiftly replaced by the feeling of the corporation melding to his essence, which was not exactly pleasant either, but parts of the corporation shifted around until finally it looked and felt like him. Aziraphale shook himself out, loosening up the joints. “Thank you for your help, my dear, truly.” 

Eremiel looked a little queasy, but said, “Of course, sure, any time - I mean no, not any time, it’s better if you don’t make a habit of this, alright? Take better care of this one. I don’t want to see you in here for at least a thousand years.” 

**Almost One Thousand Years Later**

Eremiel was about to call forward the next human soul for evaluation and assignment, when they were interrupted by Principality Aziraphale appearing with a quiet pop. Oh, for goodness — “What, you’re back already?” Eremiel demanded. 

Principality Aziraphale at least had the grace to look guilty. “Ah, yes, funny story, that…”

* * *

1 Angels don’t need to sweat, but Aziraphale had noticed that the humans grew disturbed when he showed no signs of being affected by heat and physical labour, so he was trying to get in the habit of mimicking some of their quaint bodily functions. [return to text]  


2 The list was longer than Aziraphale would have thought, considering how infrequently he came across other angels on Earth. He wondered if they were avoiding him.3]

3 Some were, as it turned out, but others were simply busy with other things. Aziraphale may be a protagonist, but not everything is about him.[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> Be aware that the tags will probably change. I'll try to keep them up to date with each new chapter posted!


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